Untold Stories
by Hekate1308
Summary: The dead rise. There are many stories about that day. Taking place during 8x12, "Death in Heaven".


**Author's note: Wrote this for Moffat Appreciation Day. Enjoy!**

There are many stories about that day. Some were told, many were not.

Most never will be.

People try not to think about it. They fixed the cemeteries and pretend their loved ones are still lying there.

But a few have other memories of that day then pain and fear and loss. And they have stories that deserve to be told.

These are some of those stories.

She never could press the button. How, when she didn't know what happened? Well, she does. She knows they were in a car crash. She knows that her husband survived. He didn't make it to the afterlife. But she has to know if he is alright. There are so many things that could have happened – Gareth could be sitting in a wheelchair, or lying in a coma – she has to know.

So she never pressed the button. It hurt, being cut off from everyone she knew and loved, but she was determined to wait, to hold on, until she could find out what happened.

And today she will.

The dead rise.

At first, she's worried how she'll look like – she has no idea how long she's been dead – but then she's a metal man, and she supposes it's better than rotting, and she only wants to take a look. One look to reassure her Gareth got out of the wrack okay and then she can –

The she can do what, exactly? She can't say. First, she has to see Gareth.

There's something buzzing at the back of her mind, a strange connection with the rest of the metal men, but they are all only standing around, not doing anything, so she doesn't pay attention to it and starts moving.

It takes a little time to get used to her new body, but it's not too bad. She hopes Gareth is still living in their old house; she wouldn't know where else to look.

Someone is living there, that much is sure. There's a car in the driveway – a new one, not the one she crashed – and the flowerbeds they worked on together are still in front of the house. She would smile if she could.

She doesn't want to knock. She might be a robot, but she's not so far gone to think that Gareth would be happy about seeing her like this. She just wants to look through the window. She just wants to see him.

She tries to be quiet, but it's not easy when one's made out of metal.

Luckily, he's in the living room, talking on the phone.

Her heart would beat faster if she still had a heart.

She can hear what he's saying; it must have something to do with the update she received – she picks the word out of this strange hive mind.

He looks worried, but he's fine.

"No, I don't believe that for a second, Ma. I mean, the dead rising from their graves? Maybe they screwed up some freak experiment they were doing near or in the cemetery. I won't leave the house, don't worry. It's just..." and she watches his eyes trail over to their fireplace, over which their wedding picture hangs just as it did they day she left the house for the last time. She can't see his expression, but he stops talking for a few seconds. "I'm fine. I mean... It's been months. It's getting... easier, you know?" he eventually finishes.

That's what she wanted to hear. Gareth is a good man; he deserves to be happy. She loves him and he loves her, but she is dead and he has to move on.

And then he sees her. She didn't think he'd turn around.

But he does and stares at the robot outside, and strangely, her first thought is that she's glad he hung up the phone.

He doesn't scream. He just stares and then slowly walks out of the room.

He's in front of her before she understands that he was going to the front door.

He looks at the blank metallic face, and she remembers what the others look like and would shudder if it was possible.

"Cynthia?" he asks slowly. "Cyn?"

She can't speak. She should, but she has heard others speak, and she doesn't want him to remember her voice this way. It's bad enough he sees her like this.

She extends her hand and touches his cheek. She can't feel anything, but he leans into it, staring into the holes that are her eyes.

"I miss you so much" he mumbles. "When they told me – I didn't have a scratch. Not one single scratch. Just because the drunk driver hit your side..." he swallows.

She strokes his cheek, and fools herself into thinking she can feel it. She's done it often enough to know what it feels like.

And, unspoken, she tells him. They have always been able to communicate without words. She tells him that she misses him, and that not a day passes that she doesn't think about him. That she'll always love him.

She hears the voice in her head and realizes it is time to go. She can save the world. She can save Gareth.

She takes a step back and he knows. He smiles sadly.

"I love you" he says softly, and she flies into the sky.

There are many stories about that day.

He rises and walks to the nearest bank. Harry still needs his medicaments, and he won't let his grandson die.

No one is on the street. They are probably scared of the metal men, he thinks, the ones that try to get into his mind with some technical mumbo-jumbo he doesn't care the least for. He's not listening. He has something important to do.

Technically, he supposes he's just robbing a bank, but he's dead, so he can't be put on trial. And even if he were, he supposes the whole giant-robot-thing can be used as a defence. Insanity or something like that.

No one is around when he gets to his family's house. He puts the bag with the money in front of the door. He figures the bank won't make too much of an effort to get it back, not after all the crazy.

A minute after he leaves, the door opens and a middle-aged man looks out. He and his family were sitting in the living room, trembling when they heard the footsteps. They didn't look outside, but it was clear that whoever was walking up to their front step wasn't human.

Except he was, because the man takes up the bag and looks inside and thinks of Harry and runs down the street.

"Dad?" he calls out.

No one answers.

There are many stories about that day.

He climbs out of the grave. His first thought is _Kate_.

Mankind is living through its darkest hour, he doesn't know where the Doctor is, and his emotions prevent him from reading the hive mind. But he has to find his girl.

If he knows her – and he does – she'll be right in the middle of whatever is happening. He has to make sure she is safe.

He flies.

It is difficult to read the hive mind, but he manages to get the location of the General.

His Kate is certain to be wherever the General is. She'll fight for humanity. More than likely, the Doctor is there as well.

He flies as fast as he can.

He flies just fast enough to see his daughter fall.

He catches her just in time. She's barely conscious. He holds her in his arms and remembers the day she was born, her warm, light weight. She's still light, he's stronger than he has ever been, but he can't feel her anymore. It doesn't matter. She's his daughter, and he will protect her.

He brings her to the Cemetery the General has landed on and gently lays her down on the ground. Wherever the General is, the Doctor has to be. He's sure of it. His old friend is trying to save the world.

He watches the scene unfold. He doesn't interfere; for all he knows, the woman – the General – could turn his emotions off and he would become another one of the mindless cyberman. He has to wait for the right moment.

And the Doctor does it again. He declines the position of General – as he knew he would – and he gives it to a cyberman. He's not the only one, then, who is still human behind all the metal.

He hears the summons. He could go with them. Save Human kind. But the Doctor is still there, and the woman is still there, and another woman who he supposes is the Doctor's current companion is still there as well. And he has to make sure Kate is found.

When he understands what the Doctor is about to do, he fires. He won't allow her death to lie on his old friend's soul.

Kate is found. The Doctor salutes him. He doesn't salute him back; he remembers he never liked that.

He looks at his daughter one last time. He flies into the sky.

There are many stories about that day.

A man finds the house he has been trying to build for years suddenly finished when he goes to check up on the construction site after the cybermen have vanished.

A widow thinks she hears knocking on her door and when she finally makes it outside, she finds red roses like her husband brought her every year during the fifty-four her marriage lasted.

And it's not only in England.

All around the world, there are people who know not all those who rose were machines. All around the world, there are people who know that love is a promise that death doesn't end.

All around the world, the cyberman hear the summons to save the living.

In New York, two of them who have been holding hands look at one another. They would smile, if they could.

"Ready to go, Mr. Pond?" one of them asks, and even in the metallic voice, there is some trace of love and mischief.

In the same tone he answers, "As always, Mrs. Williams".


End file.
